


The Thing Is

by DesdemonaSighs



Category: The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 17:35:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1696670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesdemonaSighs/pseuds/DesdemonaSighs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which:</p><p>1. Harry Osborn is head counselor and pining-not-pining<br/>2. Peter Parker steals underwear<br/>3. Gwen Stacy can kill a man with a rubber band<br/>4. There are lots of misunderstandings<br/>5. The thing with the socks happens</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thing Is

**Author's Note:**

> Welp. This happened.

It starts with this:

Peter.

* * *

 

Harry stalked up to Peter, who was busy taking snaps of Gwen working with the kids on one of her Gwen Experiments™, and grabbed him by the collar of his rough cotton polo. "What," he snarled, shaking Peter a bit for emphasis, "Did. You. Do. With. My. Underwear."

Peter tried very hard to look innocent and naive. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Har. Why would I do anything to your underwear?"

Harry pointed to the top of the flagpole where-

"Yes, well, there's that. But that wasn't me, Harry, I swear!"

-Harry's underwear hung in place of the American flag.

"Why are you doing the eye twitch thing, if it isn't you,  _Pe_ ter?" Harry asked, swinging his arm around so it was pointing at Peter's eye instead of the flagpole, nearly blinding him.

"Whaaaaaaaaa?" Peter brought a hand up to his eye, covering it, "My eye is not twitching!" His eye gave a very hard twitch.

Harry scowled. It was wrong to think the lying scum underwear stealing buffoon that was your counsel house roommate and best friend was attractive when his eye twitched. Wrong, wrong, wrong wrong.

"I'm only going to ask you once, Peter," Harry said through clenched teeth, waving around his Head Counselor Clipboard® menacingly, "As your head counselor and the only person within twenty miles of here who knows where your EpiPen is for your twenty different allergies,  _please_  take my underwear off the flagpole. The kids are starting to say the Pledge of Allegiance to it."

Peter craned his neck, snickering when he saw Joseph with his right hand over his heart at the flagpole.

" _Now_ , Peter," Harry crossed his arms, and Peter let out a sigh, web slinging up the pole, snatching his underwear off of it. He jumped down, landing gracefully, and handed Harry his underwear.

"You're, like, no fun at all," Peter whined, although he was smiling like an idiot. His eyes sparked brightly, and something deep in Harry unraveled, reaching for Peter. He opened his mouth, ready to say it, to say the words he had been harboring inside of him since he had first realized how he felt about Peter. He was going to say it, he was-

Something exploded behind them and Harry jumped up in surprise, pulled out of his revelry. Gwen was covered in ash, as were the twelve eager children around her, who were all cheering in excitement at whatever had exploded.

"Erm, that wasn't supposed to happen," she gave a meek shrug at Harry, who just shook his head, sighing long sufferingly. He turned back to Peter to comment on the matter, but the spider was already gone, slinging his way to the canteen where reportedly there would be a delicious lunch of chili and corndogs in half an hour.

* * *

 

Charles Xavier's Summer Camp for Non-mutants, or just Non-X for short, had been a program started by SHIELD in the starting years when Non-mutant heroes began popping up all over the US. Super soldiers, Spider-Men, Green Goblins, they were all the same to the members of SHIELD. All possible threats to the safety of the world unless properly trained, they had been shepherd at first into Charles Xavier's School For Gifted Youngsters and then to a summer long program when it was recognized that sticking super genius non-mutants with crowds of impressionable actual mutants usually led to fires and other mayhem. 

So Non-X was created, funded kindly by government programs and Tony Stark, who was snooty and hard to work with but also donated all the cool science type things that Gwen so liked, and kids like Harry Osborn were shipped there with the assumption they would someday turn out to be something great. 

Super geniuses, heirs to multibillionaire companies, kids with special non-mutant abilities, they were all offered a chance to attend Non-X for all their summers until they were recruited by SHIELD at 18.

Special cases like Peter Parker and Gwen Stacy, who were nothing special until certain circumstance changes, rarely popped up, and when they did, they were treated with care.

Harry had been spending his summers at Non-X since he was 14 and his father had given him his first Goblin Board™. At 17, just a year before Harry's recruitment into SHIELD, Peter had gotten bit by a radioactive spider and was too sent to Non-X. Gwen came subsequently afterwards, when it was discovered she was not only likely a genius, but that Black Widow had cornered her and convinced her to become a SHIELD agent. 

The summer of Harry's 18th birthday, when Peter and Gwen were still 16 and still enjoying themselves at Non-X, Harry was asked to return and serve as head counselor for the camp. They had long since kicked out Clint from that position, since it had been found that he was playing human hunting type games with fake bows and arrows. It was bad form to shoot children with fake bows and arrows, apparently.

So Harry had returned, and for two blissful years had been in charge of Peter and Gwen. When Gwen had turned 18, she had been sent on a mission to England for 6 months, and came back with a mind full of knowledge on how to kill men twice her size and five different mutant phone numbers. (She never called any of them.) Peter, on the other hand had stuck around Non-X, and had become something of a celebrity to the children. Spider-Man was cool. Apparently being a flying Goblin was not. 

So it was surprise to no one when Peter had been asked to come back to camp as a counselor alongside Harry. Well, possibly it was a surprise to Harry, who had breathed a sigh of relief that final summer when Peter had spent most of camp time walking around shirtless with all of his gorgeous, suntanned skin on display.

Gwen showed up that summer able to fluently speak Russian. She was asked to stay on as the science director.

* * *

 

Non-X, under the surface, wasn't really anything more than the average summer camp. Although they did have special activities, ranging from gene splicing to bomb dodging, they also had swimming classes and kayaking and anything the kids would so desire to have at a summer camp. 

Harry liked his summer job, even though it meant spending a large sum of his time with Peter in various states of undress (they shared a cabin and a bathroom, so Harry had seen just about everything), and he liked working with the kids, believe it or not. He had spent most of his teenage years cooped up in a stuffy European boarding school, and the only time he ever got to get out was during summer at Non-X. Now, he was the head of Oscorp; Green Goblin, one of New York city's many vigilantes; and the head counselor of the camp. There was nothing more in the world he could possibly want.

Well-

He glanced at Peter, who was sitting two tables over with the kids from his fan club, chomping on his corndog like there was no tomorrow.

-maybe a few things.

"So you still haven't told him yet, have you?" Gwen leaned across the table to tap on Harry's knuckle. Harry glanced around warily. They were sitting at the counselor table, the place Harry would least like to talk about his  _feelings_.

No one was paying attention though, so, "I don't doubt that you have full knowledge on how to seduce Peter Parker, Gwendolyn, but I, on the other hand, would rather not spend the rest of the summer awkwardly avoiding him when he announces to the world that I have no chance in hell."

Gwen made a sad little noise, covering Harry's hand with her own, "Harry, you don't know that. I'm pretty sure Peter would be willing to give you guys a chance."

And there it was, the words Harry didn't want to hear. He didn't want Peter to simply  _give them a chance_. He wanted all the stupid romantic things he denied himself in the daytime and indulged in the nighttime. He wanted Peter to be wild over him, completely lost in love the way Harry feared himself to be over Peter. He wanted something more than a few casual dates and calls and a  _we tried it, but it's not going to work out, Harry_. 

Harry cleared his throat, taking a bite of his Counselor Salad™ before responding. "That isn't what I want, Gwen."

Gwen shook her head. "No, no. Harry, don't you know that Peter... he... he feels-"

Peter slid into the chair next to Harry, tray full of another round of corndogs. Gwen's jaw snapped shut and she turned back to her lunch of tofu and rice.

"Hey guys," Peter says through a mouthful of corndog, "So I was thinking for free hour, we could set up a game of Zombies Vs Humans in the Big Field™. What'dya think? I talked to some of the kids and they really want to play."

Harry looked down at his Head Counselor Clipboard®, saw that there was nothing going on at the Big Field™, and nodded professionally. "I suppose we could do that."

The smile on Peter's face was worth being tackled by Sonja, who was rumored to be a first round pick for the NFL after he graduated. 

* * *

 

"I'm going to help you get the booty," Gwen announced during the nightly bonfire. Harry lifted his eyebrows up, glancing around to make sure none of the children had heard her.

"Is this really the time and place to be talking about this, Gwendolyn? Because I'm sure there is about to be a rousing tale of ghosts-"

Gwen crossed her arms, looking very put upon. "This is stupid. You two should have gotten together years ago."

"Gwen, he doesn't even like me," Harry sighed, resting his elbows on his knees. He buried his face in his hands, scrubbing tiredly at his eyes. "And I don't want him to just pity date me, or whatever you have in mind. If we're going to be together... I want him to love me, the way that I love him."

Gwen made a face. "Ew, don't say that kind of stuff to me."

Harry gaped. "You're the one that brought it up!"

"Brought what up?" Peter asked as he plopped down on the log next to Harry.

"Gwendolyn's insane, we're not talking about anything," Harry bit out, giving Gwen a pointed look. She held up her hands, miming a zipper over her mouth.

"Oh, okay," Peter laughed, confused. And then he looked at Gwen, eyes intense. "You better not have been talking about anything."

Gwen mimed unzipping her mouth. "You know  _Parker_ , secrets are really the opposite of the entire point of this summer camp."

"I will web you to that log, Gwen," Peter hissed, and now Harry was the one that was confused.

"IIIIIIII'm gonna go make some s'mores," Harry said, but Peter and Gwen ignored him, continuing to bicker quietly.

That night, Harry got a hole burnt in his shirt and marshmallow stuck in his hair, but one could live off the quality of the s'mores at Non-X.

* * *

 

The thing was...

Well, you see, the thing was....

Peter.

* * *

 

Harry had loved Peter since he could remember. Perhaps not in the way he did now, with a hot passion and a burning lust or whatever Gwen said he was feeling, but he had always loved Peter because Peter had always been there.

Peter was just so  _damn_  lovable. He was easily distracted and he smelled amazing and he was just  _good._ He was all things good when Harry was all things bad, or at least bad in essence. He was there when Green Goblin was tearing Harry apart, there to pick up the pieces and make everything alright. He was there when Norman had died and Harry was left with millions of jobs relying on his singular decisions. He was there, always, and he was loved and cherished by not only Harry but seemingly the rest of New York City, as Spider-Man and as simply Peter Parker. Even Gwen had at some point loved Peter. Even if them dating hadn't worked out because Gwen was probably the second most dangerous person on the planet, Gwen had still loved Peter, and had still felt the things Harry had been feeling since he was old enough to understand that love was the funny feeling in his stomach.

The thing was. Well, you see, the thing was. He loved Peter more than he loved a lot of things. He loved him more than his job, more than his money, more than his fancy cars and his French supermodels. He would give up all those things if it meant Peter loved him, even a little bit. If Peter felt the same way, it would possibly be the greatest thing of Harry's life, including being a multibillionaire and a SHIELD agent.

Loving Peter Parker... well, it just  _was._ It was the way things worked in Harry's world. He didn't want things to change. He never wanted things to change, not from this perfect world of Gwen and Peter and camp, but at the same time, something  _had_  to change. Harry couldn't live like this, having Peter share a cabin with him, having Peter treat him as his best pal, having Peter so close and not nearly close enough.

Something had to give, and Harry feared it would be him.

* * *

 

The fall of Harry Osborn began with this:

2 mismatched socks left in his cabin.

* * *

 

Harry had no idea who the socks belonged to, nor did he have any interest in ever finding out. They smelt. They smelt and they were girl socks and they definitely didn't belong to Gwendolyn, because Gwen up and down swore to the power of the sandal on hot summer days.

These were female socks. In his cabin. And although he didn't want to find out who they belonged to (because that inevitably led down to a road of jealousy and heartache and possibly Green Goblin destroying  _everything_ ), it certainly did not mean he didn't want to find out just how they got there. Harry never brought girls to the cabin, not even Gwendolyn who was the only female he could stand to tolerate during the summer months. When he was back to being Harry Osborn, head of Oscorp and darling of New York City, that was a different story; but here in the sanctity of Non-X, he was much too busy chasing around kids and pining-not-pining over Peter.

The only other suspect was Peter.

But that was...

It wasn't  _preposterous_ , really. Peter was popular amongst the kids and the other counselors, not just for being Spider-Man, but for his boyish good looks and his kind heart. He was much more popular than Harry, who kept to himself and was strict when everyone else was busy playing favorites. Harry didn't have favorites. Well, maybe Gwen, but that didn't count.

So, the thought that perhaps, maybe, possibly, Peter had brought a girl back to their cabin while Harry was out getting drunk with Gwen on Counselors' Night Off™ wasn't all that surprising. But it sure as hell hurt.

Harry stared at the socks for a moment longer, before picking them up and throwing them onto Peter's bed. There would be words. There would be words about how utterly inappropriate it was to date other counselors-

Well, other counselors that weren't Harry.

-during camp, and how it would set a bad example for the kids if Peter just flung himself around with all the female counselors like some wanton whore.

Er- perhaps not like a wanton whore, because Harry supposed it wasn't possible for Peter to be anything near wanton or whorish. Maybe more like a supremely attractive male who was sexually active. 

Anyway. There would be words.

That was, if Harry could get up after throwing himself on his bed in anguish like some sort of Disney princess. 

* * *

 

You see...

It was just that...

Well...

It  _hurt_.

* * *

 

Harry spent the next two days in a state of complete and total denial of anything being wrong. At night, he rolled from side to side as Peter slept soundly, snoring into the otherwise silence of their cabin. In the day, he avoided seeing Peter, because  _socks_  and  _love_  and a whole litany of things Harry couldn't think about if he was going to be running a summer camp. Gwendolyn had taken to giving him worried looks and speaking to the other counselors in Russian.

It was, obviously, better this way. Peter was never going to want Harry in the way that Harry wanted Peter. The evidence was in the- erm, well it was in the  _socks_  for lack of a better piece of evidence, but it was there. The only thing to do was move on. Moving on seemed plausible. Really it did. In another dimension, perhaps.

Peter must have noticed Harry’s avoidance of him because he walked around camp looking like a kicked puppy. He had taken to eating lunch with his fan club and staring at Harry with a pout for most of the activities, and Harry had to physically restrain himself most of the time from just hopping up and running over to kiss that sad look off of Peter’s face.

It was just the icing on the cake when he had seen Peter giving The Socks™ to Samantha, the red headed counselor who had the ability to fly after accidentally falling into one of her father’s experiments at age 10. Harry had always liked her- or tolerated her, at the very least, but he was beginning to rethink his opinion of her.

If Harry ignored it enough, maybe the pain of  _Peter hooking up with someone else in their cabin goddammit all_ would fade and he could finally just be happy with being  _friends_  with Peter. 

Of course, life at camp couldn't go on in this fashion, and Gwen had cornered him in the canteen the third day, hands on her hips and lips pursed. 

"You can't keep doing this," she said without any preamble. Harry really shouldn't have been scared of a 5'4'' science geek, especially when he was Green Goblin. It didn't stop him from taking a step back when Gwen reached for him.

"Keep doing what?" he asked innocently enough. Gwen slammed a hand on the wall next to Harry's head, making him jump.

"You are making Peter miserable, and you are making yourself miserable and I won't stand for it."

Harry blanched, pushing Gwen's arm away so he could move. "No."

"What do you mean  _no_? You can't just say  _no_  to me!" But Gwen didn't move forward anymore, instead cocking her hip and crossing her arms. 

"It's time for me to move on," Harry stated simply, running a hand over his polo shirt, "and I can't very well do that if I don't distance myself a little bit."

"Oh, Harry," Gwen said with compassion, "you have no idea, do you?"

"No idea about what, Gwen?" Harry turned away from her, burying a hand in his hair. “Trust me, I know. I know that Peter doesn’t love me and never will. I know that he’s been hooking up with _Samantha_ in our cabin all this time.”

Gwen made a surprised noise at that. “What? That’s not… no, that can’t… he said…”

“Gwen, god, please, just shut up. For once just _shut up_.”

“No, Harry, listen-“

Harry whirled around, anger suddenly making his vision go red. He felt Goblin just under the surface, clawing his way out, wanting a fight. Harry raised his hand, as if to strike, and Gwen had him pinned against the wall in an instance, her foot locking Harry’s wrist in place. Wow, she was flexible.

“Wow, you’re flexible.”

Gwen snarled, actually, legitimately snarled. Harry was scared for his life. “You listen to me, Harry Osborn,” she said through clenched teeth, “you are going to talk to Peter Parker _right the fuck now_ , so help me God, so that both of you can stop moping around and being idiots. I know 28 ways to torture a man with just a rubber band and don’t you dare think I won’t use all of them on you because I love you dearly. I’ll fucking do it.”

Harry dully noted that he would probably be turned on right at that moment if he wasn’t deathly afraid.

“That sounds kinky, but also scary,” Harry said for lack of anything witty to remark with.

“ _Harry_.”

“Fine, fine! Okay. I’ll talk to him,” Harry yelped when Gwen dug her foot into his wrist. “Jeeze.”

Gwen smiled and dropped her foot. “Good. That’s what I thought,” before skipping out of the canteen as if she hadn’t just threatened to murder Harry with a rubber band.

Harry sighed, chest tight, and slid down the wall. He buried his face in his hands. _Peter_.

* * *

 

It wasn’t until a day later that Harry riled up the courage to go and speak to Peter. He had attempted to properly psyche himself up, thinking of all the different ways to apologize to Peter for ignoring him for three days, but everything came out sounding robotic and strange, and that wasn’t going to do Harry any good. In the end, it was decided that he would just walk up to Peter and act like nothing was amiss and hopefully Peter would be clueless enough to go along with it.

It was with a heavy heart that Harry set out to find Peter. Who was talking to Samantha. Great.

Harry scowled as he watched them from his hidden spot by the men’s shower. They were laughing about something. Probably socks. And sex. Sex socks. The man stealer actually had the audacity to be her hand on Peter’s _arm_. His arm! The arm that belonged to Harry, because all of Peter belonged to Harry. Not that… erm, not that she knew that. Or Peter knew that. Harry was giving himself a headache.

He brushed off his polo, making himself look presentable and not like he had been hiding in a bush by the men’s showers watching Peter flirt with that absolute skank of a girl. He strode up to them, exuding Osborn confidence and possibly sweating through his deodorant.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, wrapping an arm around Peter. Apparently, his brain had processed the fact that now he would actually be allowed to touch Peter, which he had stupidly deprived himself of for three days, and had decided it was a good idea to press Peter all along his side. It wasn’t. It was a horrible idea, but it was too late now, and maybe Samantha and Peter wouldn’t notice how badly he as blushing.

“Hi,” Peter sounded surprised and a bit awed. A giant grin spread across his face, making him look a little insane but also gorgeous.

“Oh,” Samantha suddenly exclaimed, completely ruining the moment. Harry could hit her. “I see. Well, I’ll talk to you about _this_ later, Peter,” she gave Peter a wink, making him go red from his collar to his ears. Harry had never hated someone more in his life. They were probably going to talk about those socks some more. And then have sex. Sock sex.

Samantha smiled at them both, before taking a running start and flying away. Show off.

“Hi,” Peter said again, lamely, turning in Harry’s embrace so they were face to face. Peter was standing _really_ close. Like, too close for Harry’s sanity close. Harry forced himself to let go of Peter, taking a step back. “I thought you were avoiding me.”

Harry scoffed, trying to sound nonchalant. “Yeah right. That would take energy out of actual important stuff. Like running this camp.”

Peter seemed to smile even wider, if that was at all possible, blinding Harry and making him fall in love even more. “Okay.”

Harry opened his mouth to say something else, probably something life changing and important, but Peter was already dragging him off to the Big Field™ to watch the water balloon fight.

Harry got a water balloon filled with red food coloring all over his crisp white polo, but it was worth it for the way Peter clutched his shoulder and tried to wipe it off with a napkin.

* * *

 

Did he say _the downfall of Harry Osborn_?

What he really meant was-

The start of the greatest summer of Harry’s life is this:

 _Peter Parker_.

* * *

 

After that, Peter and Harry seemed to morph back into their single troublemaking entity. Harry found himself with Peter underfoot more than usual, following him around and helping him with whatever tasks Harry deemed necessary. It was a bittersweet arrangement they had going on. It gave Harry an excuse to constantly have Peter around, touching him, cuddling him, teasing him, but it also left him wanting and aching and more in love than he had been at the beginning of summer, which he didn’t think was at all possible. Peter had become almost clingy, finding any reason to touch or tease or get into Harry’s space, and if Harry didn’t know any better, he would have thought he was _flirting_. The thought was exciting and made Harry’s chest tighten in hope, but it was also a beautiful and wonderful path that led to nowhere but Harry’s own heartbreak.

He had forced himself to look at the situation clinically. Peter was obviously just trying to make amends for whatever deluded reason he believed Harry had been ignoring him for three days. Peter was just being Peter: a good friend, if not a tactile flirt at the best of times. Harry wouldn’t allow himself to get his hopes up.

Still, it was unnerving the way Peter would scoot up next to Harry, all lean lines and whispered words. Gwendolyn had begun giving them smug looks whenever they were together and refused to tell Harry why. Peter just got sort of flustered and awkward, and wouldn’t look at Harry for long periods of time.

Another matter to consider was the fact that Samantha seemed to be just about everywhere. Now that Harry had a reason to acknowledge her existence outside of being a counselor, he had begun to notice the way she would give Peter pointed looks across the canteen, or make sly, sexual remarks every time she passed by Harry and Peter. It was annoying and made Goblin rile up under the surface. Peter seemed to find it equally awkward, because his eyes would cut to Harry every time she made a remark, as if sensing the jealousy permeating from Harry.

Harry had come up with a coping tactic in the form of conducting an origami class. Bucky was very excited to learn, which was how Harry ended up in the nursing tent after Bucky forgot he had a robotic arm and tried to high five him.

* * *

 

As the summer came to a close, Harry found himself sinking into a deeper and deeper funk. The end of summer always brought on a fit of depression for Harry. He didn’t want to go back to the real world, that was for certain. It wasn’t like he could become a squatter, though, and wait at the camp until the next summer.

The world needed its heroes, and that included Peter and Harry and Gwen; and Oscorp needed its CEO, probably to mop up whatever disasters Felicia had managed to get their company in while Harry was gone. It was always with a cloudy mind that Harry packed the last week, because there was no guarantee with his dangerous lifestyle that he would even be alive the next year to come back to camp.

The only upside to the end of summer was the Goodbye Dance™, which was a sort of right of passage for the kids of Non-X. It was a way for the counselors to say good bye to the oldest of the camp goers, many of whom would be joining SHIELD that very fall. The Goodbye Dance™ was a bit like prom, only with less spiked punch and more superhumans.

Harry had always especially liked the dance because it gave him the chance to ogle Peter in a suit while avoiding Tony Stark who always wanted to talk shop. This year was different, though, when it had become abundantly clear that Samantha and Peter were going together. She had been hanging off of Peter like a limpet. An annoying limpet. And they had been talking things like _color_ and _flowers_ and _dresses_ and it all made Harry’s head feel like exploding.

This was an obvious reason why Harry would not attend the dance. His head would explode if he did. Gwen just sighed when he told her, looking at him like he was a bit of an idiot which- excuse her, _rude_.

There was one thing, though. The handholding. Peter had held his hand.

It had all been in a sort of rush, but it had been there and it had been evident. In a fit of lunacy, obviously, Peter had grabbed Harry’s hand and swung it back and forth as they walked, looking excited and happy and talking a mile a minute. Harry wasn’t entirely sure what they had been talking about, because the skin to skin contact was making his brain foggy, but Peter had just looked so happy and adorable and the image was seared into Harry’s brain for eternity now.

It was possibly the best moment of his life. And that was including that time on his 20th birthday that a French supermodel jumped out of his cake.

He was getting excited about handolding.

He was obviously going insane.

* * *

 

The night of the Goodbye Dance™ saw Harry sitting in his cabin, staring up at the ceiling. He had spent a good twenty minutes attempting to pack before his brain was assaulted with images of Peter and Samantha slow dancing, smiling happily at each other, wearing matching pairs of socks. Okay, maybe the sock thing was starting to get melodramatic but he felt it was an accurate metaphor for his unrequited love.

He was reveling in self pity, that was what he was doing, and he had long since admitted to himself that he was pathetic. He was playing Taylor Swift songs, for Christ sake, while burying his nose in Peter’s hoodie and inhaling his scent. He needed therapy. He would contact Dr. Banner in the morning.

He had sat there for a good hour before he heard a crash at the door. He sat up, eyes going wide as Peter panted at the doorway, looking delicious and disheveled in his suit and red tie.

He opened his mouth to explain the Taylor Swift and the hoodie, but Peter was faster than him. “You weren’t at the dance.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, leaning over to turn off the Taylor Swift. “Obviously.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Peter asked, sitting down on the bed. Harry’s brain was going into freeze mode, because Peter Parker was _on his bed_.

“What? No. Don’t be stupid,” Harry replied in a quick breath, scooting away from Peter so he could actually get some brain function.

“Oh, okay. I just thought… because sometimes you get mad at me for no reason.”

Harry blinked at him. “What are you talking about, Peter?”

“Ever since we started- ever since we got together after you ignored me, you get mad sometimes. Like when Sam is around.”

Harry was deeply confused. “I’m confused. Aren’t you dating Samantha?”

It was Peter’s turn to blink, his brow scrunching together adorably. “No. I’m dating you. Are you an idiot?”

They sat blinking at each other for a long moment. Harry felt his heart beating out a samba in his chest. He didn’t dare hope. “Are you drunk?”

“Are _you_ drunk?” Peter bit back, crossing his arms. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“Peter, we really aren’t dating. I think I would have noticed if we were dating,” Harry placed a hand on his chest, trying to get his heart to calm down. Maybe he was having a very vivid wet dream and Peter was going to suddenly become naked and they would have wild sex. Or-

“Don’t be a dick, Harry! If you want to break up, just goddamn say it!”

-maybe not.

Peter was up, pacing back and forth. “I knew you were going to be difficult about this. I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t know if you were comfortable about people knowing about us.”

“About _what_?” Harry was up too, pushing at Peter’s shoulder. “Peter, you’re confusing me!”

“Harry,” Peter was on him, hands grasping his shoulders, shaking him. Harry stared into his eyes and yeah, okay, who needed higher brain function anyway? “We’ve been going out for the past two weeks. We do everything together. I held your hand. I make you lunch. We cuddle.”

And then everything slid into place.

 _Oh_.

“Oh.”

Peter made a face. “Oh.”

And then Harry kissed him, because apparently he _could._

The next 30 seconds brought upon the greatest handjob of Harry Osborn’s life. It had been a while, okay?

* * *

 

Here’s the thing.

Here’s.

Here’s the thing.

Peter.

His.

Always.


End file.
